Being Black, Being White

L'expérience de grossesse et d'accouchement des femmes noires, qu'en est-il au Québec?

We had a typical Quebec moment when the organizer of this important forum invited me to speak, as a white doula who has had many years of experience serving black families, and I had to decline because of my own religious practice. I really love this aspect of living here, in Montreal, in Quebec, in Canada, where cultures, religions and heritages slip and slide together, usually quite happily.

Instead, I compromised by offering to write a small piece about my experience as a white doula and midwife here, and the advice I would give others when working in the black community.

First of all, let's get something really crystal clear here. Yes, there are different variegated levels of privilege. But if you are white, you pretty much have to accept that come what may, you are more privileged overall than any person of color. I will never, ever understand the nature of the every day racism that my friend Elizabeth experiences. Yes, she has a great life, yes she owns a beautiful apartment and makes good money and yadda yadda. But people look at her and think something that has to do with the fact that she is black (beautiful mama, african lady, exotic queen, and so on),  and they don't do that with me, or at least if they do decide to put me in a box, its not based on the color of my skin.

So, now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about how our experiences as white people affect the ways that we work with or for the black families we may serve.

We can fall in to one of several potholes on the road to true justice and tolerance:

1. Overcompensation. Please don't make the mistake of thinking that you need to somehow "fit in" to your clients' cultural or religious activities, beliefs or customs. It's just dumb. You are YOU. Be gracious, be humble, be authentic. Don't wear particular clothes, talk in a certain way or act differently just because you are working with people who are not like you. You will never know what its like to live their experience, so just plan on being respectful and courteous, and try not to pry.

2. Cultural Voyeurism. It's true, some African or Caribbean cultures seem so cool and attractive to those of us who grew up in, Calgary, for example. However, it is not your place, as a guest in someone's home, and particularly as a guest in someone's life, and at a very intimate and powerful moment of that life, to explore your fantasies about what their cultural heritage might be. You are not in their lives to learn about their culture. You are particularly and specifically there to accompany that family on the path to parenthood. The tasks that involves are pretty much the same across the board. Provide prenatal education; facilitate informed choice; translate and interpret medicalese when necessary; assist the parent(s) to figure out what they want for their birth experience and how they plan to reach their goals. Love the new family. Create kind and lasting relationships within the maternity care team. You're not there to find out what its like to be from Congo, or from Switzerland.

3. Random Assumptions. These are the beasties that really get to me. Just keep your assumptions to yourself and everyone will be better off. Remember, something you may characterize as a harmless opinion could be a hurtful assumption.

4. Trauma Rating. Please don't go in to a relationship where you (white person) are providing care for a (black) person, where you have any intention of "turning the racism tables". It doesn't work that way. Historically, men have oppressed women and white people have colonized colored people. It's history. Let's try to avoid playing a game of who has the worst history. That never ends well. As a white person who has been involved in non-profit work for many years, often providing pro bono services for black and other colored people, I see clearly the pitfalls of the Great White Hope and I see how tempting it might be to share my awful traumas ("just like yours, see?") with others. But its a mistaken path. Your pain as a nation or as a people is different from mine. All I can do is respect, love and do my job.

Finally, because this forum is about the black person's experience in maternity care in Quebec, how do these points above affect the doula, midwife and birthing person? Institutionalized racism is a reality in our hospitals today. ("Mexicans bleed, West Africans scream, East Asians' babies don't descend, North Africans come to Canada to cheat the health care system" etc etc etc). As a black person receiving service from the maternity care team, it is so important that you have a birth companion with you who can accompany you through a hospital stay that may be less than pleasant. As a white doula or midwife, watch your words, be doubly careful of acting out your own prejudices and generalizations. Watch your tongue! Open your heart! Stay human!

So Grateful for "Q for Quando"

Gotta love that Italian pop music!!! Grateful for all the days we sped along the Autostrada or some rocky road in our beat up old van, tape player blasting, full of love...


Pino Daniele

Postpartum Intensive November, 2016

We are offering a postpartum doula training for people who want to work outside the box. This course will give the student an in-depth understanding of the period from birth to eight weeks postpartum. The physical, emotional and psychological experience of the postpartum period will be discussed and challenges during this time will be examined. Alternative methods of maintaining postpartum health will be explored.

The course runs from November 18, 19, 20, 2016 and the cost will be $350; $300 earlybird special (register before September 18, 2016).

What will be covered? Day One: The normal mother baby after birth from birth to eight weeks postpartum: mother care, baby care, feeding, emotional health, family, and more. Day Two: Challenges during the postpartum period: what to do? When to refer? Day Three: Role play, discussions and case studies. The workshop lasts three days and will continue with mentorship and support afterwards.

Meet our teacher:, Erin Ryan CPM

"I began working professionally as a midwife in 2000, In that time I have attended over 900 births, working throughout the US as well as rural clinics in Bali.  In my 2 years in Bali I worked in a clinic as well as doing home births and I served women from over 15 countries.  I’ve seen babies born in many different environments, and I have worked with women and families from many different cultures from all corners of the globe.  In all circumstances, the constant has been loving care and respect for the mothers I work with.

My fascination with birth started at a young age.  A Laura Wilder fan, I was curious about how pioneer women delivered their babies on the frontier.  Life led me from Little House on the Prairie to the University of California at Berkeley.  After graduating, I immediately began pursuing midwifery, working as a volunteer doula at the county hospital, and later attending and graduating from the National Midwifery Institute.   While gaining a strong academic foundation, I trained as all good midwives traditionally have, through apprenticeship with some of the best.  My education did not end there; I continue to learn through research, consulting with midwives and other medical professionals and most importantly from the wisdom of mothers.  I pass this knowledge along to my colleagues and clients to continue improving birth experiences for women everywhere."

Interested? email us at mbcdoulaschool@gmail(dot)com

P is for Popcorn

A Short Homage to Popcorn

I love the taste of it. I love how peculiar it is: did people back centuries ago discover its properties by mistake? I love its many coats and dressings. I am grateful for popcorn, and its fun factor. It contains all sorts of good things for your body: protein, minerals, vitamins, and fats.

Oh, Oh, Older

I dropped the gratefulness ball. I'm back with Oxytocin but I couldn't write intelligently about it at all. Neither Oceans, which I love. Nor obstetricians, whom I also love and respect. Thank God for obstetricians, who save mothers' and babies' lives every single day!

But, today I am grateful for getting Older.

Babyhood was probably a hoot. I was born in Uganda and spent much of my babyhood on someone's back, and the rest of the time naked learning how to dance or playing in the sand. But I remember nothing before I was three.

Then young childhood was spent trying to avoid having to speak to anyone, and learning the joys of reading and using my imagination.

And being a kid was pretty ok I guess, I was taken for fun hikes in the Rockies and we went to England for a year. I learned to play the piano and the clarinet. I loved doing homework. Still terribly tormented by shyness, and self-conscious about my crooked teeth, frizzy hair, and knowledge of words with more than two syllables.

Adolescence? Terrifying, creepy, and awful, mostly. I was the weird kid in school, never had a date. But I still loved reading, which kind of saved my life, except when I got a little Older I started traveling and spent hours in the Rockies on my own.

So, being a young adult is kind of weird in this society, at least it was in the seventies because we didn't know what we were supposed to do. Anyway, I did it and emerged with a baby in the eighties, and then life was just a whirlwind, magnificent, crazy, uplifting, we had a farm and lots of babies....

Babies grow older. They get bigger and then they also turn into adults, usually. Mine did anyway, except the last one who is still an adolescent. It's a fun trip, having kids. I wasn't a career woman. I raised children, had a farm, created two non-profits, stay married for a really long time.

Middle age was fucking awful. I spent about ten years thinking I could please all the people, all the time. I twisted myself into a pretzel, to no avail. I trained to be a midwife, but a wee bit too late so now I can only work illegally. I'm some kind of a legend in the birth world here, which is bullshit because I know very little really.

Now I am getting Older. Turning sixty this year, I hope. No more pretzel. I am starting to say no, and it's a little freaky. Some people don't like it.

So, I am mostly very grateful for the chance to be old, I'm not there yet but I am getting a glimmer of what it might be like. Of course the body changes in weird ways, kind of like adolescence. But you get to be yourself because what the fuck, you might as well, right? You might as well say what you want to say. Of course I always like to try to not hurt people, but I am learning that its not always possible.

So here's a big L'Chaim to getting OLD!

Grateful for N

I've gone through several names during this temporary visit to Earth. My parents wanted to name me Adam, but then I was a girl. So my birth name was Nicola. Shortened to Nicky, then Niki.
Then I got another name, actually a whole new persona, an alter ego, and this name was Rivka, not even a name I've ever liked very much. But many, many people feel tender and warm about the Rivka person: she is a doula and birth attendant, and a friend, and a teacher/mentor.

Toni Morrison has the same problem:
"Toni Morrison was born Chloe Wofford, and still thinks of that as her real name. She picked up the nickname “Toni” in school (from her saint’s name, Anthony), and Morrison was the last name of her long-ago ex-husband. To this day, she deeply regrets leaving that now world-famous name on her first novel". NYMag
"Myself is kind of split. My name is Chloe. And the rest is… that other person. Who is able to feel, or pretends to feel, or maybe really feels, or at least reacts to celebrityhood. " (The Guardian Interview)

So, we're stuck with names we didn't ever really grow in to, and I am always grateful for Niki, who keeps me grounded and reminds me of who I really am.

Niki runs, and sails, and plans things for next week, and says she'll be there in five minutes. She drinks a wee bit too much, and swears a little too much, and she wants to live in many places for the rest of her life, and thinks Rivka is a bit of a weirdo, and a bit of a wuss.

I am so grateful I'm me, and her, and them.

M is for Mother

My mother died almost exactly two years ago. I miss her pretty much every day. We didn't have a peaceful relationship, far from it. But I knew I could call her anytime, if only to chat about plants.

My friend wrote a beautiful piece when I let her know that my midwifery certification had arrived just hours before my mother died:

I sit here now, in Bali, at dawn, in the quiet as birds awaken... and cry for your Mother's passing. This is HUGE... as the Human StarGate that opened to bring You Earth~side, has been destroyed. One door closes and another opens, and you become a CPM. My head is shaking in wonder. I believe that when a woman's own mother passes, she becomes the new Wise One, a role you are very prepared for. And... how perfect that your CPM popped through as that door was slowly opening to allow your mother to slip through to the other side.  

The doorway between our world and the next, is one and the same, it swings both ways, opening for Birth and opening for Death... 

And this is what I wrote: Tribute to my Mother.

I hope that people can have a last peek at the smallish whirlwind that was my mother.